


Back Story: A Conflict of Interest

by Anne_Fairchild



Category: Vienna Blood (TV)
Genre: Doctor-Patient Ethics, Friendship/Love, Grumpy Oskar, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nurturing Max
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22763935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne_Fairchild/pseuds/Anne_Fairchild
Summary: After a hard chase-down of a suspect, Oskar’s not in great shape. Max determines to look after him whether he wants it or not.
Relationships: Max Liebermann/Oskar Rheinhardt
Comments: 10
Kudos: 31





	Back Story: A Conflict of Interest

**Author's Note:**

> Set after eps 5&6 with spoilers for those eps.

Max knew by his face and other body language that something was wrong after they had chased down the suspect, and again when they got in the carriage, but he said nothing about it for awhile - until he noticed Oskar sitting very stiffly, and grimacing each time the carriage hit a rut.

“What is it - what did you do?” he asked. Oskar glared at him.

“I spent the last half hour running through the city’s water system to catch a criminal, and you were with me,” he rumbled ominously. Max only smiled.

“You know what I meant. What did you do to _yourself,_ Inspector?”

“Nothing, what do you mean?”

“Really, aren’t we better friends than that? What’s _wrong?_ ” he asked pointedly. Oskar glared at him.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“What hurts?”

“Oh, now we are ‘where does it hurt’?” Oskar’s attempt to scoff fell apart when the carriage rounded a corner and he groaned in pain.

“Well I _am_ a doctor. And doctors generally do need to know where the pain is to diagnose and treat people,” Max returned patiently. He moved to sit next to Oskar, wedging him in so that he would no longer be at the mercy of the carriage’s suspension system.

“But I’m not your patient, and I don’t need your diagnosis or your treatment,” Oskar protested. Max just looked at him.

“And when the carriage stops and you fall on your face - or something else - trying to exit? What then?”

“Are you trying to torture me?”

“No, I’m trying to help you. The fact that you believe you don’t need any help is irrelevant, because it’s apparent that you do. Is it your back?” Max asked calmly.

“ _Gott verdammt,_ you are a pest.”

“So I’ve been told. Is it your back?”

“Yes, I suppose so. My shoulder too. And maybe my knee,” Oskar admitted reluctantly.

Max tapped the roof of the carriage, and the driver stopped.

“Sit,” he ordered, then got out to speak to the driver. “We’ll be making a stop on the way,” he explained when he climbed back in.

“On the way to the station?”

“No, on the way to your house,” Max explained patiently.

“My house?” I cannot go home, I have work to do and I’m expected at the station. We have a suspect to interrogate.”

“Except that very soon you won’t be able to move at all without considerable discomfort. You won’t be able to walk into the police station, to your office or to the cells. And you probably won’t want to try where von Bulow or the commissioner can see you. Better to beg off a day than to have them actually _see_ you hobbling,” Max suggested. “Not fit, too old, etc.”

“Thank you very much,” Oskar growled.

“I didn’t say _I_ felt that way, but you know they’ll use any excuse. Are you going to let pride bring you down?”

Oskar shot Max a Look.

“ _You_ should not be lecturing anyone on pride, Doctor,” he groused.

“I wouldn’t be too proud to let a friend help me.”

“Ho, I’m not sure I believe that.”

“Oskar.”

“All right, all right,” he grumbled.

When the carriage stopped, Max jumped out and went into a chemist’s shop. He was gone several minutes, and returned with a medium-sized box which contained bottles and other things Oskar couldn’t identify. He put it on the floor at his feet and maneuvered his legs around it.

“What the hell are you going to do with all of that? You are not experimenting on me with all those…things, I don’t know what they are,” Oskar protested.

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Frankly, no.”

Max laughed. “It’s neither experimental nor barbaric,” he assured Oskar. “Half is remedies my mother would recommend.”

“So I don’t have a choice,” Oskar sighed.

“Not much of one, honestly.”

“ _Gott verdammt.”_

Max just smiled.

When they arrived at Oskar’s house, Max had the carriage driver help him get Oskar in the house and sitting on the bed. He wrote a note to the Commissioner and gave it to the driver. Once the man was gone, he went back in to Oskar, who was having trouble maintaining a sitting position on the bed and was clearly in pain. Max took off his overcoat, suit coat, tie and collar and rolled up his sleeves.

“Do you need help undressing?”

“What do you mean, undressing? I’ll just lie here awhile and it will pass, whatever it is.”

“Can you explain to me a way that I can examine your back, your shoulder and your knee without you undressing? Being unreasonable isn’t helping anything.” Max knelt and untied Oskar’s shoes, slipping them off. He was using his doctor with patient voice, soft and gentle, like he had with his nephew.

Oskar couldn’t fight that voice, it was too comforting, too kind. Reluctantly, He pulled down his braces and began to unbutton his shirt. He found he couldn’t get the shirt off his shoulders, so Max quietly took over, removing the shirt and his vest, then helping him stand, unbuttoning his trousers and sliding them off, leaving him wearing only his underwear. Oskar made a sort of whining noise.

“I don’t like seeing any doctor, they make me nervous. But when it’s someone I know, and my clothes - I’m sorry Doctor, it makes me uncomfortable. I can’t help it.”

“I do understand, of course. But I am your friend, and you need help, yes?”

“Yes,” Oskar sighed wearily. He was beginning to hurt in several places. Several more places than he’d told Max. He _was_ too old to go chasing across rooftops and down sewers, but he had little choice. Days like today were an unpleasant reminder. He was being ungrateful. He should be glad Max was here, and cared enough to look after him.

His knee was obvious; he’d landed on it. The skin was broken, and his leg was bruised from just above the knee to a couple of inches below, as well as slightly swollen. Cool fingers moved across his back, probing gently. When Max touched certain spots it hurt enough to cause him to complain, but at the same time it felt oddly soothing too.

“You’ve pulled muscles in your lower back, and higher up, under your right shoulder. The muscles around your shoulder have been pulled too. None of this will heal overnight, Oskar. If you try to ignore it - well, you can’t, and you would only do worse damage. We’ll have to deal with it.”

“ ‘We?’”

“Mmm-hmm. These will help.” Max held out two white tablets, with a glass of water.

“What is it?”

“Aspirin. It will help both the pain and the irritation of the muscles.”

“I don’t like taking pills.”

“Are you going to fight me in _everything_?”

“I don’t enjoy not being in control of my own body,” Oskar growled.

“No one does,” Max agreed softly, waiting until he’d swallowed the pills. He arranged the pillows on the bed, bringing a couple in from the sofa, and settled Oskar back against them with as firm a support as he could create. He put another cushion beneath his knee and cleaned off the relatively small area of broken skin with antiseptic. Reaching in the box, he brought out a small glass bottle and tipped a dark oil into his palm. Carefully, he smoothed it liberally over the swelling and bruising. When he was satisfied with the application he covered the knee with a light, loose dressing that wouldn’t compress the swelling.

Oskar was intrigued to watch Max work. His touch and manner were professional, but the care and gentleness was a surprise. He was every bit as calming and reassuring with Oskar as he had been with Daniel, who had responded to his uncle when he hadn’t responded to anything or anyone else. Oskar found himself letting go a little, losing his tenseness. Max was not someone to fear, or any sort of threat; he was trust and relief.

“What’s in that? It’s a very odd smell.”

Max grinned and agreed. “It’s a mixture of things, and the strong odors don’t mix very well. Valerian, white willow bark, frankincense and camphor. They aren’t usually prescribed together, but their combined strength should be even more effective than alone. Don’t worry, the dosages are safe. The effect will be similar to the aspirin in helping with pain and inflammation. Before you go to sleep I’ll use something for the bruising, and then reapply this.”

Oskar closed his eyes for a moment.

“Thank you. I have been a very ungrateful patient. I’m sorry.”

Max looked up in surprise, and smiled.

“You’re welcome. It’s what you do for a friend.”

That was true, as far as it went, Oskar thought. But they both held each other’s eyes for a moment longer than the conversation warranted. Does he _really_ know, Oskar wondered, just why I’m so uncomfortable in this situation?

Does he have any idea, Max thought, how difficult it is for me not to comfort him inappropriately? Touch him not as a doctor but as a friend and..something more?

“There should be some food left on the table soon, though I don’t know if it will serve for two. I pay a neighbor to cook for me, and she leaves it on the table every afternoon. She has a key. You might ask her for more if it’s not enough,” Oskar ventured.

“I’ll talk to her. I do need to use your kitchen to boil up some tea for you,” Max explained, gathering up a parcel of what looked to Oskar like weeds. “Relax. Just lie there and let the medicines work.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Oskar admitted. “For so long it’s been only work, because I didn’t want to think of anything else.”

“I know. But it’s better now, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is I suppose. But the sadness -“

“Will never go away. It shouldn’t go away, but it shouldn’t take over your life either. It doesn’t happen overnight, but give yourself a chance.”

“Yes, doctor.” Oskar smiled slightly.

After the events at St Florian’s, when Max lost his position at the hospital and Oskar lost his chance at promotion, for a week or two they spent time commiserating in each other’s company. This frequently involved long talks into the evening, mellowed by brandy. One evening in particular Oskar, his tongue loosened by the alcohol, spoke about Mitzi and about Else. Max was able to draw him out a little that night, and other nights.

Oskar found it didn’t hurt to talk about Mitzi so much when he was with Max, who seemed to understand his grief and how it had consumed his life for so long. He soon realized that Max was doing for him what he did for his patients, and doing it so skillfully, so delicately, that he hadn’t realized it. He only knew that he felt better after spending an evening with his friend, and that Mitzi’s memory, while still filling him with sadness, no longer controlled him. He felt free, not of Mitzi but of the overwhelming, all-consuming pain her loss had brought. And somewhere in there, he’d begun to think about Max as more than a friend.

He hadn’t really thought that Max’s medicines would make much difference to his aching body, but as the minutes passed he realized that the hot, sharp, confronting pain was muted to a duller throb he could deal with, and he was a little sleepy. He didn’t fall asleep but he let the drowsiness envelope him. It was nice.

By the time Max stuck his head in the doorway, the shadows had lengthened almost to dusk.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes. Since we had no lunch, you must be hungry also. What is it Annika has left today? Is there enough?”

“ _Käsespätzle_ and sausages, and bread. The bread is still warm from the oven. Oskar, it isn’t enough for two people, it’s enough for four. How much does she think you eat every day?” Max marveled.

“Should I come to the table?” Oskar looked as if he’d really rather not get up, and Max shook his head.

“No need. It’s better if you don’t move too much yet. I’ll bring it in here, don’t worry.”

True to his word, Max appeared a few minutes later with a plate of the hearty cheese and noodle dish, a fat sausage, bread and butter, and wine. Oskar briefly wondered where Max had gotten the wine, but it wasn’t really important. He brought his own plate in, and they ate companionably on the bed. So used to eating alone in a silent house, Oskar found the food tasted better and the wine sweeter with company.

When they had eaten their fill, Max took the plates into the kitchen. Oskar was surprised to hear him washing the dishes.

“You don’t need to do that. Annika will take care of it in the morning,” he called out. There was no response for a few minutes until Max returned.

“I suspect Annika has things to keep her busy enough. I don’t mind. I’m not helpless.”

He sat on the bed looking pensive, and went quiet. Oskar regarded him with a questioning look.

“Do you need a little therapy, Doctor?” he asked lightly. Max looked over at him and sighed.

“No one ever regards me as an adult who is competent - as a son, a brother, a doctor - or a dish-washer,” he half-smiled ruefully.

“I do,” Oskar protested.

“Sometimes,” Max agreed.

“I’m sorry if I don’t. I don’t mean to do that.”

“I know. No one means to, Except Professor Gruner and Inspector von Bulow.” There was a slight twinkle in Max’s eye.

“You’ve been very competent today,” Oskar acknowledged. “Reassuring.”

“Things the local wise woman or herbalist could do.”

“It means a lot to me, what you’re doing.”

“Speaking of - more treatment for your knee, while we play a game of cards. I’ll go and get it.” Max disappeared back into the kitchen and returned with a wet compress, which thankfully had no strong smell. He removed the bandage and lay the compress over Oskar’s knee, pressing lightly for good contact. He dribbled a bit more liquid from a bottle onto it and seemed satisfied.

“What is this?”

“Comfrey and hamamelis, good for bruises. It should be soothing.”

To Oskar, at this point anything Max said or did was soothing, but he couldn’t say that.

They played several games of cards, and after half an hour or so, Oskar noted his knee felt less ‘angry,’ he supposed he would say. He felt more at ease than he had for some time, injury or no injury. Companionship was part of it, as was Max’s doctoring, and just Max himself.

Max went into the kitchen again. He’d been treating him tirelessly since he’d brought him home. It’s true they were friends and that friends did such things for each other, but Oskar felt a tenderness in his actions that might, he hoped, be something more.

He brought in a large mug of tea and put it into Oskar’s hands. It smelled strongly but pleasantly of peppermint and herbs.

“It will relax your muscles and enhance your last treatment. After that, I think you’ll be ready to get some sleep.”

Inhaling the scent and drinking the mixture was definitely comforting. He could get too used to this, Oskar thought, especially if Max was his doctor. All of the different potions and oils, as well as the brandy, had left him feeling a bit floaty.

“Turn over, lie on your stomach,” Max instructed. Oskar did so very carefully, and Max put a pillow under his injured knee.

“Just relax. Let yourself drift off to sleep if you can.”

Oskar wrinkled his nose at the pungent smell of the oil Max had used on his knee. He started a little at the oil being smoothed over his back by way of Max’s hands. He hadn’t expected this and wasn’t sure he liked the idea of Max touching him the way he was. He found himself concentrating on sensations and feelings he shouldn’t be thinking about, along with the blissful feeling of Max’s skilled hands working at the sore muscles of his back.

As before, Max’s touch was slow and gentle. He was practiced at what he was doing and Oskar wondered where he’d learned it - and why. It felt to Oskar as if he was bordering on a different sort of intimacy than doctor-patient, but he wasn’t sure if that was only his own wishful thinking.

Max worked delicately around his injured shoulder, then across both shoulders followed by long, soothing strokes the length of his entire back, ending in a deep kneading of his lower back and the top of his buttocks. Yes, it felt good. It was soothing, and pain-relieving. But Oskar was also getting hard, however much he fought against it. He was embarrassed, but also angry. How could Max not know the effect it might have on him? It wasn’t right. It put him at a shameful disadvantage just when he was most vulnerable.

“All right, finished. Turn back around, and try to get some sleep.”

“No,” Oskar grated, “I’ll sleep as I am.”

“But it will undo what’s just been accomplished,” Max protested.

“I hope it will do exactly that,” Oskar grumbled. “Don’t touch me,” he warned.

Max frowned, not understanding his hostility. Then after a moment, he flushed.

“Oskar, I’m sorry. I never thought - I - oh dammit,” Max muttered. “Perhaps I should go. I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable.” He sounded rejected, and resigned - rather like a sad, misunderstood child.

Slowly, Oskar did turn after a moment, keeping himself covered with a blanket. He needed to see Max’s face, which reflected both shame and misery.

“Why do people always misunderstand me?” Max sighed in a small voice, not looking at Oskar.

“Because you are different from most people. That is a curse and a blessing, but it probably works as a curse most of the time, hm? Come and sit down. We can’t go on misunderstanding each other.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Sit down, Max. If we don’t do this, we’re done - and I don’t think either of us wants that.”

“No. I don’t,” Max murmured. He sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed.

“Why did you bring me home, and do all that you have done today, and tonight?”

“Because you’re my friend and I care about you. I wanted to help you. I know you don’t always take care of yourself. I wanted to be sure you were looked after. That you knew someone cared. That I cared,” Max whispered.

“Do you know why I didn’t want you to take care of me, why I wanted you to leave me on my own?”

“I thought you were being stubborn. I didn’t think anything else, until a few minutes ago. You’re injured, and vulnerable physically. I wanted to help you, and yes, care for you because I have feelings for you. Feelings of more than friendship. But a doctor can’t - I had to separate those feelings today. I _did_ separate them. I didn’t think that you would have any similar feelings for me. I would never knowingly put you in a situation I wouldn’t want to happen to either of us. God, Oskar, I wasn’t teasing you,” Max groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“I didn’t really think it was deliberate, but I didn’t know what you were doing, and it made me a little angry. Now, well - I need to know if what I sensed from you was real or not. Was it, Max?”

Max’s mouth worked without a sound, as Daniel’s had, as if there were things he wanted to say but was afraid to. He looked so unhappy, Oskar thought.

“No one else takes me seriously. Not my family, or anyone at the hospital. And besides that, I’m ‘the Jew doctor’ or some other constant insult. When I’m with you, it all goes away. You treat me as a man, a colleague, and a friend.”

“Which doesn’t really explain the other feelings you claim to have.”

“It’s my nature, Oskar. I’ve known for awhile, but my family doesn’t know. Seeing Clara was against that nature, to please them. I didn’t expect that you would feel the same. Why would you, after all?”

Oskar laughed softly. “Why would I? Because you’re full of the joy of life that I no longer have. Because you’re smart and kind and honourable. And because I find you extremely attractive, Max my friend,” he smiled. “A more obvious question is why would you be attracted to a middle-aged, middle-class, out of shape old grump like me.”

“Because I like you - really _like_ you, as a friend, and I trust you as I trust no one else. You understand me. I know you to be honest, and loyal. And because I’ve never so much wanted to be with anyone,” Max admitted awkwardly, flushing. “When I think of you…. But when a friend or a lover is ill or hurt, a doctor mustn’t think that way. You just don’t. It’s not the time. I’m sorry. I couldn’t even do this right, and I tried, I honestly did. I never thought you - You were married, with a child.”

“And you were going to be married, and would have children.”

“Should I go now?”

“Max, you can’t run away whenever things get awkward or unpleasant in your life. I have learned that the hard way,” Oskar sighed.

“I’m..embarrassed.”

“There are worse things to be, I think. I certainly don’t want you to go anywhere,” Oskar smiled. “And since we’ve cleared the air about our feelings, there doesn’t need to be any more dancing around them, hm? You must be tired. If you want to know what I’d really like, it’s that you would lie here beside me and we’ll both sleep.”

“I don’t think-“

“Yes, that’s already been demonstrated,” Oskar teased. “But I’m not so gravely injured that I don’t know what I’m saying, or so helpless that you could ravish me against my will - nor do I think you would do that in any case. I would just like to know you’re here, beside me now. It would be, after our words, a good thing. And a sign that they weren’t just words.”

“No, they weren’t just words.”

Max warred with himself for a moment or two, then sighed in resignation as he unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, clad only in his vest and trousers now. He kicked off his shoes, straightened the blankets and the sheets, and turned the lamp low. Gingerly, he slipped into the bed and covered both of them. He didn’t touch Oskar at all.

“Max. Really? It’s all right to let the doctor off the hook now. Just be yourself. Please.” Oskar’s voice was low, the soft rumble that Max had been captivated by from the first.

“As you are fond of saying, Inspector, _verdammt,_ ” Max groaned. He edged closer, until he could feel Oskar’s body heat. Oskar’s hand came to cover his, their arms touching. Their heads came together on the pillow.

“Good, yes? Nothing to be sorry about, nothing to regret. All is well,” Oskar murmured, squeezing Max’s hand.

“So you’re comforting me now?”

“If I am able, I’m glad.”

Max turned his head and nestled against him, his nose behind Oskar’s ear. He allowed himself to relax.

“You are my comfort, more than you know.”

“Tomorrow, when I’m rested, you can tell me about it. And when I’m released from my doctor’s care, you can show me.” Oskar’s voice was drowsy.

“Conflict of interest.”

“Perhaps you can live with that?”

“Perhaps I can.”


End file.
